I live here?

This past weekend, Chris and I took a trip down to Monterey, Carmel and Big Sur.  We ate, hiked, saw this amazing waterfall, ate again, hung out with friends, and ate some more.

McWay Waterfall, Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park

If you go to Carmel, you must go to Dametra Cafe. It’s a tiny Mediterranean restaurant that’s a local favorite. You will find a very accommodating maitre d’ that goes by Gabriel. He will shake your hand when you arrive and hug and kiss you good-bye when you leave. What could top that? We even got prosecco on the house because of our long (twenty minute) wait. AND they sing and play music while you dine.  Well, in my case, they wanted all “the ladies to take the dance floor” a.k.a. the two-feet walkway in between the tables.  It was hard to refuse Gabriel after free bubbly.

Me shaking my hips in the middle of Dametra. 

Throughout the trip I was telling people we met that we lived in Boston. I don’t know what’s wrong with me!! It’s been nearly six months since I made the cross-country move to San Francisco and I still can’t manage to tell people that I’m from here much less live here. Most of the time, I am from New York; or Westchester for those who are familiar with the state; or Rockland County with those familiar with Westchester. Occasionally I’ll throw out that I’m from Boston depending on whether I’m in the mood to talk about bagels or clam chowda.  Chris said when we hit the year mark out West, I should start telling people I live in San Francisco. Baby steps. 

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